


Last

by TronKon



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TronKon/pseuds/TronKon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is a Unicorn. What else really needs to be said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last

“What the fuck did you do?!” Jason’s face was twisted and furious as he stomped over, shoving at Dick’s shoulder with the open palm of his hand. It was a desperate, frightened anger.  
  
“I-I saved him. I changed him.” Dick’s voice was defensive. What he’d done here- it was truly _magic_. He’d done it- he’d done it and he’d saved the unicorn’s _life_. What was Jason so angry about?  
  
“You _idiot_.” Jason hissed the words between clenched teeth and stepped back, pushing his hands through his hair. He looked like he was holding back striking at Dick again. “Change him back. Change him the fuck back right now or so help me I’ll-“  
  
“I can’t. The magic chose the form and if I change him back, the Red Bull will find him.” Dick’s voice was firm, he made it firm. But looking at the Unicorn pooled at his feet in human form sobbing brokenly- Dick himself wasn’t so sure either.  
  
Jason snorted, his glare softening only when he turned his attention from Dick to the pale creature- the pale _human_ , and he knelt down next to it.  
  
Dick never saw Jason so gentle as when he was with the Unicorn. And now was no exception. The man touched the creature’s shoulder gently, whispering some small words of comfort that Dick didn’t catch before gathering the pile of spindly snow white limbs against his chest and standing up.  
  
“Give me your fucking coat.” The man growled. Dick didn’t argue, handing the heavy cloak over wordlessly. After Jason had clumsily wrapped the unicorn in it, he turned his attention back to Dick.  
  
“You better be able to change him back. When the time is right. He’ll go insane in this goddamn body if we leave him like this. Immortal creature, stuffed into a mortal body? It ain’t fucking right. So you promise me you can fix this Dick. You promise me right the fuck now.”  
  
Dick held Jason’s stare before sliding his own eyes away.  “Of course I can Jason. When the time is right.” He cast another worried glance at the Unicorn, curled against Jason’s chest, with Dick’s cloak clutched in his hands. Dick felt a sick churning in his stomach. _What had he done_?  
  
Turning away, Dick faced the path they’d been walking when the Red Bull appeared.  
  
“Let’s go. We can’t stay here in these woods forever.”  
  
Grunting agreement, Jason hefted the small package in his arms up for a more secure hold and together, he and Dick started walking.  
  
If anyone in the world knew what had happened to all the Unicorns in the world save one, it would be Ra’s Al Ghul.  
______  
  
When Damian first saw Timothy, when he first caught sight of his pale limbs arranged clumsily against the chest of a poorly bred behemoth of a man as they approached his Grandfather’s castle- Damian was transfixed. Immediately, Damian was enamoured.  
  
Indeed Damian missed most of the introductions and Grandfather’s slick smile as they were ushered into the castle.  
  
Most often, Damian did not have selective hearing. He was observant to everything around him. But in those moments the only information he was able to salvage was that this pale creature was Timothy, and that his boorish companions were Richard and Jason respectively.  
  
As the troupe settled into Damian’s Grandfather’s home, they selected roles for themselves. Richard seemed quite happy to entertain Grandfather with his many whimsical magic tricks and aerial maneuvers. Jason seemed satisfied with menial labour. Timothy however did not seem to settle on anything. Truly, Timothy himself seemed unable to stay in one place and drifted about his Grandfather’s house like a ghost on silent feet.  
  
There was no finer contrast than that of Timothy and his supposed _brothers_. Next to them, Timothy was a fey wisp. Even his movements were lovely. When he walked it was like his feet were a fog rolling through the Manor, never touching the ground.  
  
When Timothy observed things, he craned his neck as if it were much longer then the neck of a boy, and Damian’s eyes were captured by the pale flash of his throat as he breathed.   
  
Timothy also had a habit of standing perfectly still when he felt he was being watched. Not still the way most creatures were. Most creatures could stand still but there would be a tell tale sway to their frame and rise to their chests. Most creatures weren’t capable of standing so completely and maddeningly still. Timothy however was the exception to that.  
  
And his eyes- Damian couldn’t be sure what sort of witchcraft Timothy had courted to have eyes like he had- but there was no explanation beyond witchcraft _for_ it. When Damian stood before him and spoke to him was when he saw it best. Timothy’s eyes were a limitless blue. A self contained colour that tolerated no outside interference. Where most eyes took on reflections and colours from the light outside, Timothy’s eyes remained depthless. Damian could not see his own reflection in Timothy’s eyes in any manner of light.  
  
Yes. Damian knew that Timothy was not like his so called brothers. Timothy’s ethereal qualities were a tell tale sign that he was most definitely not who, nor what he said he was.  
  
But still Damian was enraptured. Even as strange as he was Timothy was beautiful. Maddeningly so. And when Timothy deigned to speak to him- his words always seemed to hold a deeper meaning then Damian was able to discern.   
  
Timothy was wise, and young and lovely.  
  
And Damian was not familiar with the ache in his chest nor the crushing longing he experienced when he was in Timothy’s presence.  
  
All Damian knew was that there was no one else in the world like Timothy.   
  
And he wanted more then anything for Timothy to be his.  
  
______  
  
At first, it started small. Jason almost didn’t notice. But as he began to pay attention he started seeing the pattern.  
  
The young heir to the Ra’s Al Ghul legacy had become obesssed with Timothy- Tim. He followed the boy on silent feet through the manor, day after day, watching him.   
  
Tim would stand for hours at the tallest balcony in the house and stare out across jagged cliffs into the roiling sea.  
  
And Damian would watch Tim.  
  
Tim would go down into the kitchens and sit in silence with Jason as Jason went about his work.  
  
And Damian would hide in the doorway of his own home.  
  
For those first few days it was like the young Al Ghul was trying to decide on something. After three weeks of that fucking watching, Damian seemed to have made up his mind and began what Jason could only assume was what passed for courting in this part of the world.  
  
Damian would stare longingly at Tim and then leave the manor for days at a time. And when he returned, Damian would present the Unicorn with some token of his travels.   
  
The first thing Damian presented him was seal of another prestigious family- a proof of winning against them in combat. Tim had been in the kitchens, perched on a stool as Jason prepared the vegetables for that night’s dinner.  
  
Chest swelled with pride, Damian had entered the space and formally presented the token to Timothy.   
  
And Tim. Heh. Tim had taken it in, and Damian- and looked away. The most casual of dismissals. He had turned his attention back to Jason, and back to _potatoes_. After a few moments of tense silence, Damian had slinked out of sight, taking his token with him.   
  
But that had been the start of a pattern.  
  
Damian left again, this time for longer. And from what Jason had seen, each time he returned it was with a grander, more impressive token of affection.   
  
It was the eighth token that caused any sort of different reaction from Tim. When Damian presented him the head of an immortal creature- a dragon- Tim had been visibly distressed and fucking booked it.   
  
It took hours of searching but Jason finally found him in the stables, curled next to the Heir’s exhausted mount. The horse’s sides heaved and it’s mouth was flecked with pinkish foam. And Tim- Tim’s hand was pressed to the animal’s barreled stomach, and his cheeks were wet with tears.  
  
Jason could spot a fucking mistreated animal a mile away- and this one- looked like it wasn’t going to be able to handle any more.   
  
Damian was such an _idiot_.  
  
Still, Jason knelt, then sat in the dry straw littering the stable floors and just- waited. Tim was waiting alone and something in Jason knew that wasn’t fucking right. So even if it was in silence, the least he could do was sit with him.  
  
They sat like that until morning.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, sometime in the night, Jason saw the shadows move.  
  
And he knew as surely as anything that it was Damian.  
  
______  
  
Damian did not like having to come to _Todd_ and ask these questions. He found the man ill mannered, boorish and uncivilized. He talked like a peasant and worked like one as well. To realize that the man was in possession of information Damian sorely needed was a rather painful sticking point Damian had taken his time in surmounting.  
  
But then there was Timothy.   
  
For all of him, Damian did not understand how to make him his. He’d done as was proper. He’d seen the prize he wanted- the beautiful brother of Todd and Grayson- and had set about wooing in the proper fashion.   
  
He’d been upset initially at Timothy’s refusal of his favours, but he’d come to respect it. Obviously his feats were not grand enough. Timothy was no peasant to be won by pebbles and baubles.   
  
But each and every attempt of his was scorned. The most recent being a disaster.   
Damian was not a rightous man. He was not put on this earth to do good deeds. He was selfish, he was arrogant, and at times cruel. He was aware of all of these things and yet. And _yet_.   
  
He’d danced on a string for this haunting slip of a boy, with his fathomless eyes and his graceful hands. He’d become something he was not in seeking his favour and still it was not enough.  
  
Damian was at his wits end. Nothing helped. Nothing turned Timothy’s eyes to him with anything but contempt.   
  
There was warmness in Timothy’s fragile smile when Todd and he were alone in the kitchens, speaking of all manner of inane things. To think that Todd was in possession of Timothy’s heart and affections when Damian would die to make him his cut him to the quick.   
  
It had reduced him to this. To asking Todd for help, because Grayson was too stupid to form a coherent sentence, and did not seem to spend as much time with Timothy as Todd did. Todd was the only choice.  
  
So Damian slinked into the kitchens, mindful of the absence of Timothy’s willowy frame perched on one of the kitchen stools.   
  
Damian had seen the boy up on the ramparts staring into the sea as he so often liked to when the weather made it pleasant enough to be up there for long periods of time.  
  
The sight of Todd’s shoulders braced as he moved the box of potatoes from cold storage to the cutting table greeted him.  
  
Damian stood waiting until the man had deposited his load before stepping forward, movements brusque. “Todd.”  
  
As if in greeting, Todd’s lips curled in a smirk and he plunged both hands into the box of root vegetables, pulling out an assortment and dropping them the the scarred wooden table before him. “He’s not here. So you can take your creepy stalker show somewhere else.”  
  
Damian ignored the blush of shame that threatened to crawl up his neck. There was nothing to be ashamed of. He was acting as was proper under the circumstances. “That is not what this is about, Todd.” Eyebrows drawing together in a scowl, Damian’s fingers tensed where they rested on the scabbard of the sword on his hip. “I had hoped that you and I may converse.”  
  
Todd looked skeptic.   
  
“In regards to Timothy.” Damian quickly ventured. Gods forbid that Todd might think that Damian was interested in knowing a thing about _him_.  
  
Todd hummed a laugh behind closed lips and began cutting the eyes off the potatoes with a small paring knife and quick, savage strokes away from his body. “Well you can talk. I can’t guarantee I’m going to want to, or even be _able_ to help you out. But give it a shot.”  
  
Damian nodded once, curtly. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Todd might not be intelligent enough to assist Damian in obtaining his prize. “He speaks with you. On various topics.”   
  
Todd glanced up at him, dropping a peeled vegetable in a nearby pot, already filled with water. “True, I guess. We talk some.”  
  
Damian resisted the very tempting urge to press the heel of his hand to his forehead or pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I have-” he paused, inextricably and suddenly unable to navigate the course he wanted to take in this conversation smoothly. “Timothy is lovely. Wise. I wish-” he gestured, palm facing upwards, frustrated at his sudden lack of words to convey his feelings. “I wish for him to be mine. To be by my side. To look at me with affection, as he looks on you. But my efforts mean nothing to him. I’ve become a hero for his favour, and he looks on me as a king would a pauper.”   
  
Todd seemed as unmoved as Timothy, having turned his attentions back to his legumes. After a brief pause, he spoke. “He’s not gonna be yours. No matter how much you want him.” More potatoes dropped into the pot of water. “You think he’s pretty, I get that. He is. Damned pretty. But you fucking act like just because you want him, just because you did all this shit to get his attention-” Todd glanced up- a flash of sea green before turning back to his work. “He owes you something. He didn’t ask to be wanted by you. He doesn’t fucking exist to be wanted by _you_. But you play this little game like he’s a prize you’re gonna win. Not fucking stopping for a second to wonder if he’d want you going out there, slaughtering shit in the name of your goddamn _affection_.”   
  
Damian reared back- Todd certainly had a fair amount of audacity to speak to him in such a manner. “This is the way it is _done_ , Todd. I wouldn’t expect a _peasant_ such as you to understand-”  
  
Todd was not finished, and he sliced the air in front of him with his paring knife, silencing Damian’s words. “Well that’s just fucking great isn’t it. _That’s how it’s done._ ” Todd laughed a bitter, humourless laugh. “If that’s the proper way of fucking doing it- you’d think your fucking Ma and Pa would be around, living it up in eternal bliss, wouldn’t ya?” A raised eyebrow, daring Damian to question before he went on. “And for that matter, If the old man was any indication, him and your grandma didn’t enjoy years of wedded bliss before going their separate ways. No man who’s lived a fucking fulfilled life with love in it looks like that. Acts like that.” Potato peels littered the counter. “So go ahead, brat. Tell me a fucking-gain about how that’s the way it’s _done._ ”  
  
Damian spluttered, and immediately felt shame. To allow Todd to catch him so off guard was inexcusable, but there was no ready response on his tongue for those allegations. Mother and Father had parted ways years ago for reasons Damian did not question. Neither of them frequented with visits. “It is- _correct_.” Damian pressed, crossing his arms tightly across his body. “Following tradition- it is a sign that I am devoted and sincere in my intentions.”  
  
Todd snorted. “Tim’s pretty fucked off with you and your traditions right now.”   
  
Damian had known of Timothy’s disfavour, but to have it verified- it stung.   
  
“That horse-” Todd continued when Damian did not put forth any response. “Tim stayed with it all night. Fucking- _laid_ with it there in the stable until it died. Broke his heart to do it, I could tell.” The man looked up, giving Damian a stern, meaningful look. “You did that. You killed it by running it too long, too hard. Everytime you fucking see Tim it’s to report another goddamn death these days and expect him to be _happy_ about it.” Todd continued his peeling. “To want to _be_ with you when what you’re doing makes him sick to his fucking stomach. So either pay attention to what he wants and be that and hope he forgives you, or leave him the fuck alone. Stop torturing him in the name of what’s _correct_.”  
  
Damian swallowed, mouth dry and tongue thick. If Todd’s words were the truth- Damian had been hurting Timothy. Causing him pain and turmoil in an attempt to curry his favour. It hadn’t been his intention- but intentions were no excuse. Perhaps he did not understand Timothy’s gentleness. But he had not made an attempt to either. Ignoring Timothy’s wishes had been a mistake. A mistake that may very well have cost him what he wished for most. For Timothy to look upon him as he looked upon Timothy.   
  
Damian felt a curious feeling. One he could not name but came from the families of regret and meekness. Todd was uncultured and uncivilized- but maybe as such, for him, it had been easier to cut to the quick of the situation. Todd had been able to translate Timothy’s feelings more acutely not being caught in the trappings of courtship traditions and family honor.   
  
Damian felt ashamed. Ashamed of his actions. Regret pooled inside him, thick and dark and cloying. “Please-” Damian looked down at his hands. Hands that had unknowingly caused his Beloved such pain. “If you could just- please just tell Timothy-” wringing his hands before him, Damian looked up to Todd, humbled. “I only wish to serve him- I only wish- to be whatever he has most need of.” This was weakness, Damian’s mind- his pride echoed back to him. He ignored it. Pride had left him alone all these years. Strong and unflinching and _cold_. “Please. If you could just tell him that.”  
  
Todd’s gaze was searching. He’d stopped his ministrations, half naked potato and paring knife laid before him. Hands braced against the aged wood of the cutting table. Finally he nodded, once, eyes on Damian’s. “I can tell him. But- it might go over better if you told him yourself. Without some grisly mess on your hands this time.” Todd’s smile was a little cruel, but Damian deserved that.  
  
“Of course.” Damian acquiesced. “It would be cowardice to put such a task in the hands of another.”  
  
Todd picked up the knife and vegetable, this time, his smirk seemed more open- an expression of approval. “Sounds like you’re learning.”   
  
Todd went back to his work.  
  
And Damian slipped out of the kitchens. He had much to think about.


End file.
